


Lady of the Forest

by scrubclub



Series: AryaxGendry Week 2018 [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 06:46:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15455634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrubclub/pseuds/scrubclub
Summary: Written for AryaxGendry Week Day 6: "Dancing"A little vignette of Arya and Gendry’s life post-war.





	Lady of the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> This probably works in both show or book canon, but it was mostly inspired by the books. Arya’s femininity is something that often gets glossed over, but I feel like she really connects to this sort of wild, natural form of womanhood and I wanted to explore that. Obviously inspired heavily by the Featherbed Song.

Spring had arrived slowly, as if unsure of itself. Flowers hesitated as they bloomed, tiptoeing out of hibernation with the lengthening days. The whole world felt delicate, as though one misstep could plunge the realm back into the chaos that war and winter and brought. 

There was dew on the grass that morning, tickling her bare feet as she led him through the woods. Some days saw rougher trails, forcing her to don her boots, and other days, when their journey was long, they had to take horses. No corner of Westeros had been more battered by war than the Riverlands, but no corner suited spring so well. 

They were not sure how long they would stay. It had started with the orphans, waiting at the Inn at the Crossroads. She had insisted upon joining him in relocating them and he welcomed her, though not without ensuring her that Lord brother would allow it. They brought the children to a village that had not yet rebuilt itself, and so they stayed to help. Every child found a bed and a home, and the crops began to grow again. 

They had moved on, coming upon villages and outlaws, broken homes and burnt fields. The wolves found them not long after they arrived, their leader refusing to leave her side for weeks. The pack still tracked them down occasionally, as if checking in to see that they were still alive. In the debris of the villages, they offered what they could, sometimes staying for an afternoon, other times for weeks. Most nights they slept under the stars, looking up at the patterns made by some god or another. One day they would return to Winterfell, but for now their place was here. It was not an easy life, roaming the gradually resurrected Riverlands, but it was a happy one. 

“May I ask where we’re going now that we’re beyond the village gates?” He asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead as he followed her up the trail. 

“To find the flowers Miss Mairi likes, the ones that look like little golden bells,” she turned back to him and smiled, “I want to surprise her.” Gendry smiled back at her. A young girl in the village had made a crown of lilacs for Arya. She wore it atop her wild hair, petals falling into her curls. Gendry thought she looked like a fairy, if a fairy wore an archer’s bow and quiver on her back instead of wings. The days of sunshine had dotted freckles across her nose. 

They reached a clearing and saw a meadow filled with all sorts of wildflowers. Grinning, she took his hand and tugged him forward. She found a patch of golden bells and sat down to pick a few. He crossed his legs and watched her. “You look like a princess,” he said. Arya looked down at herself.

“Princesses don’t wear breeches that a High Heart butcher’s son outgrew,” she said lightly. 

“Aye,” he agreed, “you still look like a princess.” Gendry paused, smiling at her. “Do you miss home?”

Arya looked up, surprised. “I miss my family,” she said, “and I miss Winterfell. But I don’t miss all of the rules.” She ran her hands through the grass. 

“You still don’t like being a lady?” he teased. 

“No more than you would like being a lord,” she countered. She bit her lip. “I’m glad you refused the title.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “I would have been rubbish at it. Though if you were my lady perhaps I could have managed.” Arya made a face. 

“I can’t imagine you all dressed up in yellow silk,” she said, “and with a crown on your head.” Gendry laughed.

“I would have had to court you properly, call you things like _my lady love_ , and promise to guard you with my shield” He stood and offered Arya his hand as she laughed. She took it and curtsied, dropping her basket of golden flowers. 

“Lord Gendry,” she laughed, offering him a stained handkerchief from her pocket, one that she had almost certainly used to wipe blood from her dagger after their encounter with some outlaws just days ago, “Will you accept this favour as a token of my love?” He bowed, but instead of taking just the handkerchief, he grasped her entire hand and pulled her close. 

She listened to the music of the forest - the murmuring stream, the songs of birds, the soft breeze through the trees - and placed her free hand on his shoulder. She led, stepping forwards and then backwards, rocking sideways, both of them out of step. “What are we doing?” he said, as she spun away from him and curled back into his chest.

“We’re dancing, stupid.” 

“I don’t know how to dance,” he said, “Is this how the lords and ladies do it?”

Arya laughed, petals falling from her crown. “Not at all,” she said, “but my way is far more fun.” She stepped away from him and spun, her hair catching the sunlight as she twirled. 

She sat down in a heap and lay back. “I’d sooner be the lady of this meadow than of any castle,” Arya said, as he moved to stand over her, laughing at the lilac petals and grass that had woven into her hair. She was surrounded by golden flowers. He lowered himself and lay beside her, taking her hand in his. 

“A lady of the forest,” he said, grinning. 

“And her forest love.” The two lay together in the soft grass for a long while, basking in the yellow light from the morning sun. 

They gathered her bow and her flowers and set off back towards the village, where the beauty of the world was steadily growing back.


End file.
